


6 by day, 7 by night

by stains_of_ink



Category: NCT (Band), WayV ensemble - Fandom, WayV | 威神V
Genre: Other, kun goes on a journey and finds six friends, loosely wuxia/chinese drama inspired, some violence/fighting, vague sword fights and even more vague descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stains_of_ink/pseuds/stains_of_ink
Summary: The boy wipes his knives and turns, offering Kun an impish smile.“Better luck next time,” he grins. He leaves Kun standing, the blood hardening by his feet.ORThey are safe enough for now. Kun smiles, and it feels like coming home.
Kudos: 5





	6 by day, 7 by night

**Author's Note:**

> ** Loosely historical/ancient chinese drama - inspired  
> ** Please see Author’s Notes for details about which member is which  
> ** WARNING: Some violence, brief mentions of fighting / blood

ONE. (I)

The first boy appears by day.

He appears in a flurry of swords and knives, his eyes sharp and bright. When he stands, ten assassins lie bleeding by his feet. Judging by the depth of the cuts, they will not survive much longer. The boy wipes his knives and turns, offering Kun an impish smile. 

“Better luck next time,” he grins. He leaves Kun standing, the blood hardening by his feet.

The sun beats down upon him, but dead men leave no answers. Kun presses on.

TWO. (II)

The second one stays longer than the first.

“Young Master Qian,” he says, bowing. His movements are quick, his gaze open and clear. Wisps of hair frame his smile, and a sword swings at his hip. The path he takes is dangerous, he knows, and he could use the protection. So he dips his head toward the boy next to him and asks. “I will be travelling,” he says, careful to give nothing away. After all, he is only asking for a safeguard, nothing more. “The road ahead will be difficult, and I could use a companion. What do you think?”

The boy laughs as he smiles, and the sound splits the night.

THREE. (III)

The clouds hang low as they travel from one province to the next. The boy beside him is sharp but easy-going, tender yet fierce. He fights well, though not as well as the first. His new friend is more prone to smiles than arguments, and he is a welcome presence on the lonely road in front of them.

They meet the third boy in the middle of a village brawl. The sound reaches them first, the sinking of fists into skin. As they approach, so does the smell, the scent of mi jiu sickly-sweet. The crowd parts as he approaches, spreading like petals around a rotting pit.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the boy flinches. His eyes are wide, flecks of dirt smeared across his cheeks. “We won’t hurt you,” his companion adds, and it is then that the boy in front of them cracks. Tears spill down his cheeks as he sobs, and Kun drops to the ground next to him. He thinks of the men and women who surrounded them just now, old grannies and kind salesmen who did nothing but egg the men on. He thinks of how the attackers kicked and spat, and something in his heart twists. 

“Come with us,” he says softly, and tries not to flinch when the boy readily agrees.

That night he dreams of blood and knives. When he wakes, two boys are lying by his side. 

FOUR. (IV)

They find the fourth boy in a teahouse. 

He serves them tea with a graceful smile, inviting them to stay for the afternoon. The yi mian he brings them is delicious, the noodles crips and shimmering with oil. The boys help themselves to seconds, and for a moment Kun forgets that their stay isn’t permanent.

He does not have enough to pay for the tea, but the boy waves away his apologies. “Take me with you,” he insists. “I can pick herbs, brew soups, and sing. Take me with you, and consider us even.”

“Oh?” Kun finds himself leaning forward, taking in the boy’s soft gaze, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. “Just what is it that you can sing?”

The boy opens his mouth, and his voice is as clear as the night sky. 

FIVE. (V)

The fifth boy slips past them in the dark of the night.

“Wait,” he calls, and Kun turns. Like ghostly spectres, the others slip into place, ready to defend him. But it will take more than the cold winds and the long nights to make him afraid. 

“What do you want?” he calls out.

The boy steps forward, and the moonlight streaks his lips white. “He wanted you to have this,” he says, and presses the hilt of a knife into Kun’s hands. 

“I am not here to hurt you,” the boy states. His eyes are tired, his gaze dark. When he moves, a fan swings from the belt at his hip. It is the color of cream, the silk pale and bloodless.

“Make of it what you will,” the boy shrugs. His stance is swift, his eyes black in the moonlight. “I was only told to pass this on.”

The knife lies heavy in Kun’s hands. When he looks down, beads of sweat dot the finely-wrought hilt. He is reminded of a sunlit day, the clash of swords, and a warrior’s smile.

“Take me to him,” he rasps.

SIX. (VI)

The seventh boy skirts around them like oil on water.

They hear tales of a boy who sleeps by day and lives by night. He terrorizes the villages, luring in the cultivators only to steal their jewels and wine. In the eyes of the villagers, he is both a blessing and a menace. 

The rumors say that he is a demon one day, a god tomorrow, and a martyr the next. When they leave the village with their heads reeling, Kun does not know who to believe.

They only notice his presence on the fourth day, when one of the boys returns from scouting with his face bruised and beaten. It is the wide eyed boy from the village, Kun realizes.

“I was trying to protect it,” he gasps, gesturing to the bag he cradles against his chest. When Kun peels back the opening, he is met with the face of a scrawny, squealing pup.

“That man,” he bites out. “Was he involved in this?”

For a second the boy pauses. The pup squirms in his arms, growling when Kun holds his fingers out. Already the others are stopping, ready to help with warm clothes and medicine.

“No.” The boy shakes his head and smiles. “No. He was only trying to help.”

Kun sneaks into the village that evening, taking only one of the others with him. It was the one he met all those months before, who could switch between his smile and his blade in an instant. 

“I swore to protect you,” he said when he catches Kun running off. “As a fellow wanderer and friend, allow me to fulfill that promise.”

The night is quiet around them. If he concentrates, he can hear the clinking of bowls, the scraping of chopsticks, the curl of a gentle laugh. His friend is a steady presence beside him.

“Very well,” he nods, and the two of them hurry on.

They cross paths with the man at the side of an inn. He is no older than Kun himself, but his skills rival even those of the boy who gave him the knife. He spins like a shadow around them, slipping past even the fastest of thrusts and parries. It is only when his safeguard pleads for mercy that the stranger stops.

The tip of his sword digs into the hollow of Kun’s throat. “Young Master Qian,” he says. “I see you’ve found me at last.”

“I am not here to fight,” Kun says. He is so tired, and the blade is cold against his skin. “If you have something to say, then say it.”

The boy tilts his head and laughs. When he stops, the tip of his sword is stained with Kun’s blood. 

“I have nothing against you,” he says. “But I know someone who does.” His face is thinner up close, the edges of his mouth cracked and swollen. His hand trembles, and Kun glimpses the curve of a lotus, black against his inner wrist.

“A friend of mine lost his knife weeks ago.” The boy steps back, sheathing his sword with a wink. “Would you like to meet him?”

SEVEN. (VII) | END. 

They do not leave the first night, nor the second. There is something about Luo village that calls for them to stay. For each of them, the pull is slightly different -- there’s the stray cat that slinks around the butcher’s, enough wine to last them ages, and cabinets bursting with herbs and swords and metals. It is like they are frozen in time, and for a moment, Kun and his friends are content to stay.

It is bittersweet when they cross the river at last, choosing to depart on the morning of the fifth instead of the fourth. Hearts full and bellies sated, they cross the woods to the north, where food is scarce and bandits rampant. Kun sends teams out as scouts, only for them to return cold and empty-handed.

“Don’t worry,” the boy from Luo village assures them. His gaze is uncharacteristically soft, his sword clinking at his hip. He traces the lotus on his wrist often nowadays, as if willing the lines of ink to stay.

“Soon,” he tells Kun when they set up camp for the night. “I promised you, didn’t I? Eventually we will find him.”

“We”, not “I”. The boy smiles, and something inside Kun unfurls at the sight. 

“I am not worried,” he tells him, when the other four gather around the fire. The night is cold, but the sharpness of the wine keeps him warm. Slowly, the boy’s eyes meet his. “I trust you,” Kun says, and he knows that things will be alright.

\------------------------------

He awakes to a sword grazing his throat. Mist lines the ground as Kun shakes off the last dredges of sleep. He surveys the bandits around him, but they are outnumbered three to one.

“Let them go,” he snarls. The boys are valiant, but even the seven of them cannot win this fight. If anyone has to go, it will be him. 

The lead bandit swings his sword with a sneer. The tip of it grazes his shoulder, drawing blood. Behind him, one of the boys cries out. 

“I take that as a no.” He tries to sound apologetic, and then the sheath jerks at his hip.

He reaches for it at the same time that four swords go taking flight.

Those are the bandits swords’, Kun realizes. Four of them lose their weapons in an instant, their gnarled hands grabbing at empty sheaths. Two others find them trussed up by the fire, arms and legs dangling. Kun watches as a newcomer steps into the fray, making quick work of the others. Soon all of the bandits are incapacitated, their arms and throats slit. Kun closes his eyes and tries not to remember, tries to ignore how the air stinks of blood.

The newcomer grins when he catches sight of him. He walks forward, and in his left hand lies the lotus-hilt knife. 

A sunlit day. The kiss of flesh upon metal. A sharp, fleeting smile. 

“You,” Kun breathes, remembering the face of the boy who’d saved him all those months ago. 

“Me,” the boy replies, still smiling. He twirls the knife, giving it a good scrubbing before slipping it back into Kun’s sheath. 

“Looks like you’ll need it more than me,” the boy says, sliding his own sword back into its sheath. “Isn’t that right, Kun-ge?” 

He laughs when Kun splutters, then locks eyes with the next person to tease.

\------------------------------

There will be time enough time for introductions later. Kun smiles, and it feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> (8/6/2020):
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Since I didn’t use any names in the story (beside Kun’s), here’s some clues to differentiate the members:
> 
> #1 = Yangyang because of the “impish smile” + it was cool to have the youngest member be a heroic badass. Also in section 6, the guy who “loses his knife” is Yangyang -- the knife Winwin gives Kun in section 4 is actually Yangyang’s. 
> 
> #2 = Hendery because he’s smart, funny and reliable all at once :)) Like he won’t hesitate to lighten up the mood, but he also won’t hesitate to fight whoever badmouths you. Also in section 1 and 6, Hendery is the “safeguard” (i.e. bodyguard) Kun is referring to. I couldn’t really find a better term to use, sorry :(( 
> 
> #3 = Xuxi (Lucas) because of his perseverance? This one was a little more vague, I guess. Originally I wanted him to protect the puppy against the horde of villagers, but it didn’t quite fit. So he ended up rescuing the puppy in part 6. 
> 
> #4 = Dejun because of the singing + tea houses/inns are so aesthetic. I’d like to imagine the seven of them tucked in a little tea shop somewhere, cracking jokes and keeping dry from the rain. Hahaha that seems so aesthetic
> 
> #5 = Sicheng because of his stance and his fan. Writing Winwin’s part was a bit more difficult because I didn’t really know how to describe him. I guess the white fan from his traditional dances was the main clue.
> 
> #6 = Ten because of his dance-like sword fighting and the “tattoo” on his wrist. I know his real tattoo isn’t a lotus but hhhhhh let’s just roll with it. Although he would totally rock a lotus tat for real (like those in the traditional chinese ink style). -- Also, the boy from Luo village is Ten.
> 
> Lastly, “6 by day, 7 by night” refers to the 6 of them spending at least one day with one another, before meeting the 7th person (Ten) at night.


End file.
